


Drunk Confession

by chelseawinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseawinchester/pseuds/chelseawinchester





	

Dean Winchester had this hold on you that still hadn’t loosened. You spent some time together when you teamed up with him and Sam on a hunt a couple months ago, but you had to go your separate ways. It didn’t make sense for three good hunters to be on the same case when there were other hunts. But occasionally, when Dean was in a nearby town, you would meet up. You both knew you had feelings for each other, but you denied it. You didn’t need to complicate whatever it was you had.

And most of the time, you even told yourself that you didn’t have feelings for the man. But there were times those feelings would rise to the surface and it killed you emotionally. Especially when you drank.

So there you were, sitting in a bar somewhere in Oklahoma, drinking. A lot. You didn’t drink like that very often, but you had been having a rough few days. You vented a bit to the bartender, who actually seemed to enjoy listening to you.

After you got a few strong drinks in you, you started talking about Dean. His hair, his eyes, his smile, everything. The bartender replied with, “Damn, I want to meet this guy.” You told her that just seeing him would melt you into a puddle, and she said she believed it, based on your description.

At some point, you thought it would be a fantastic idea to call Dean. Yeah, not smart, but you were heavily impaired. So you whipped out your phone dramatically, thinking you were so clever, and dialed Dean’s number.

Dean picked up, happy to hear from you, until you said, “Deaaan! I’ve missed you.”

“Uh, Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Me? Yep! I’m great!” Then you realized that you weren’t okay. You were upset that you and Dean weren’t ever going to get to be together. “No. I’m not, Dean. I miss you. A lot. Like, more than just…physically,” you dramatically whispered, apparently not wanting anyone to hear.

After Dean didn’t respond immediately, you started frowning, wanting to hear the words reciprocated. But instead, he asked, “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you scoffed.

“Yes, you are.”

“I. Am not. Drunk,” you insisted as you stumbled over the legs of the stool; you were trying to go outside.

“Where are you, Y/N?”

“Ardmore. Oklahoma!” you sang.

“We’re not far, I’ll get there as soon as possible.”

You wandered around, finding your way back to a bar stool. You tripped over your feet several times, but managed to balance yourself out. You didn’t realize everyone was looking at you, but you felt better not thinking anyone saw.

The bartender–you remembered thinking how nice she was–didn’t let you have any more drinks, but she let you stay at the bar until Dean arrived.

That turned out to be an hour and a half. He found you nearly asleep at the bar and picked you up, taking you out to the car. Sam was there as well, shaking his head at your drunken state.

“Go back to the motel, Sam,” Dean ordered, sitting with you in the back of the Impala. You were stretched out, almost asleep, your head on Dean’s lap.

At the motel, you were laying next to Dean. He was kind enough not to judge you–out loud. You rolled on your side and looked at him. “I’ve always liked your eyes. They’re pretty.” Dean started grinning, knowing the words were spilling out of your mouth the way the alcohol spilled into the glass you had been drinking from. “What?” Your eyebrows furrowed, wondering why he was laughing at you.

“You’re really, really drunk, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay. Sleep it off, alright?”

“Sure, Dean. Anything for you.” You rolled onto your other side, getting as comfortable as possible. You were almost asleep when you muttered, “I love you.”  
____

Your head was pounding. The contents of your stomach were threatening to come up the way they went in. Every sound was amplified, and the lights were much too bright. “Uhh!”

“Hey, beautiful,” Dean’s voice said. You threw an arm over your eyes, not wanting to get up. “Y/N, do you even remember last night?”

“Some. I, um…” The specifics were starting to come back to you, right up until you fell asleep. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Why did you say that?”

“No reason,” you blurted.

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it, I was drunk. You weren’t supposed to know. I’m sorry, Dean, I ruined this, I didn’t want to say anything–”

“Y/N, I love you too.”

You stopped talking immediately. The words weren’t quite processing correctly, but you were pretty sure he just said he loved you. “Did you just…”

“Why do you think I hurried over here? I wanted to make sure you were okay. I love every moment that we’re together, and not just the sex. I love when we get to talk. I love you.”

You started to smile, ecstatic that this man, the one you’d been pining for since the day you met him, was telling you that he loved you. “I love you,” you stated, just staring at him, shocked that you could say it out loud now.

“I love you too.” He crashed his lips to yours, and you got lost in him–or he got lost in you, technically.


End file.
